Windigo Island

  “Widen to include what?” Daniel asked.

  “Every possibility. Sailboats, powerboats, fishing boats, cruise liners. You name it.”

  Daniel didn’t look convinced. “That sounds like a lot of territory to cover.”

  “It probably is. So our challenge is to figure how to do this most efficiently.”

  “Got a suggestion?” Jenny asked. Because she didn’t think he’d go down this road without some idea of where he was headed.

  “I do. We begin at the Coast Guard Marine Safety office. It’s just down the street, next to the Maritime Visitor Center. I’m thinking they may keep a record of all the craft that use the harbor, commercial or otherwise. And if they don’t, they may have an idea who does.”

  Before anyone could respond to this suggestion, Jenny’s cell phone rang. She looked at the display, surprised to see that it was coming from Nishiime House. When she took the call, Bea Abbiss was on the other end of the line.

  “I’d like to talk to you,” Bea said.

  “You have something for us?”

  “Maybe. But I want to talk to you and Louise alone.” Her voice sounded troubled.

  “All right. When?”

  “Are you free now?”

  “Yes. We’ll be right over.”

  “Thank you.”

  “That was Bea,” Jenny said, slipping the phone back into her purse.

  “What’s up?” Cork asked.

  “I don’t know. She just said she wants to talk to us.”

  “Well, let’s go,” he said, rising.

  “She wants to talk to Louise and me, alone.”

  “Like the guy who called you last night?”

  “This is Bea, and it’s broad daylight, Dad.”

  “I don’t like it,” he said.

  Louise said, “We’re going.”

  Jenny watched her father take this in and digest it. She could see that it didn’t sit well with him. But she could also see that he knew what he was up against. “All right. But Daniel and I are going to park a block away. At the first sign that anything’s fishy, you run, you understand? Deal?”

  “Deal,” Jenny agreed.

  Meloux spoke quietly. “I will go with the women.”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Henry,” Jenny said. “Bea wanted only me and Louise.”

  “An old man is nothing, Jennifer O’Connor. Just a shadow. You will see.”

  She started to protest again, but Louise stopped her. “Migwech, Uncle,” she said.

  And so it was decided. And, although Jenny didn’t know it at the time, so also was their path toward the man called Windigo set with irrevocable consequence.

  Chapter 27

  * * *

  Bea Abbiss greeted them at the door to her office. When she saw Meloux, she shot Jenny a worried look but said nothing. She invited them in and asked them to sit. The room seemed darker than the day before, when the late afternoon sun had poured gold through her window.

  “You talked to Raven?” Louise said.

  “Yes.”

  Jenny said, “We had a run-in last night with the man we believe is Windigo.”

  “I know. Raven told me.”

  “Did she set us up?”

  “No. She couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

  “Will Raven see us?” Louise asked.

  “With conditions. But I’m not sure it’s a good idea now, considering.” Her eyes leaped to Meloux, then back to Louise and Jenny. “She’s agreed to see you two. She wants no men there.” This time she looked pointedly at Meloux. “Not even you, grandfather.”

  Meloux made no reply, gave no sign at all that he’d heard. He let silence sit between himself and Bea. Finally she seemed compelled to explain.

  “You have to understand the situation these girls find themselves in.” She spoke now to Louise and Jenny, as if they might need to interpret for Meloux. “They have nothing except what they’re given by their family. They also have come to believe that their own self-worth is tied to that relationship. Even if they’re scared to death, they won’t desert the family. Because, honestly, being scared to death is their daily lot. These girls have been beaten, raped, tortured by the men who head the family, all because of some trespass, not even necessarily a big one. A word of complaint. A look of resistance. It doesn’t take much.”

  She paused, maybe to let the horror of that reality sink in, especially for Meloux.

  “I’m telling you this,” she continued, “because you need to understand the chance Sparkle—Raven—is taking if she talks to you. And if she does talk to you, you need to be very careful in what you do afterward. Because a wrong move can have huge consequences for her. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know where Erikson Park is?”

  “North along the lakeshore,” Jenny said.

  “There’s a rose garden there. She’ll meet you.”

  “When?”

  “As soon as I call her.”

  “So you have her number?” It may have sounded like an accusation, as if this was a piece of information she should have given them sooner, but Jenny didn’t mean it that way.

  “This is risky for everyone concerned,” Bea shot back. “We have a relationship with the girls out there. We have street cred. I don’t want that jeopardized.”

  “We understand,” Louise said.

  Bea looked again at Meloux. “Grandfather, I don’t think you should be a part of this.”

  The old Mide, who’d not spoken before, replied, “Granddaughter, I am a shadow, nothing more.”

  “Even a shadow might scare her away.”

  “Then I will be less than a shadow.”

  Bea looked at Jenny, probably seeking support in dissuading Meloux.

  It was Louise who spoke. “He’ll be fine. I want him there.”

  Bea gave a little shake of her head, a clear indication she still thought it wasn’t a great idea, but she gave in. She picked up her cell phone, punched in a number, waited. “They’ll be there in ten minutes,” she said.

  She saw them to the front door. They stood in sunlight slanting from above the lake, and it seemed to carry a little silver with it, a bit of promise.

  “I hope with all my heart that you find your daughter, Louise,” she said, and the two women exchanged a hug, heart to heart.

  “Migwech,” Louise said.

  “For God’s sake, be careful,” Bea said to Jenny, but gently. “Our Windigo isn’t a myth.”

  “We will,” Jenny promised and then echoed Louise’s thank-you. “Chi migwech.”

  “Grandfather,” Bea began, but she didn’t seem to know what else to say.

  The old Mide took both her hands in his. “I have seen much in my life, granddaughter. The windigo, I have met before. We are old enemies.”

  She seemed surprised by this. She studied him in the silver light. “This Windigo is still young and very strong.”

  “Where it counts,” the old man replied, “so am I.”

  • • •

  The roses in Erikson Park were in full bloom. Behind them the great lake, Kitchigami, stretched toward the horizon, where it met the sky. The green foliage and the red and white and yellow blossoms were like splashes of bright paint against a solid blue wall. The day was already hot, and the park was full of visitors dressed in shorts and shirtsleeves. Jenny didn’t see Raven Duvall, the girl who now called herself Sparkle, but she wasn’t sure if she’d recognize her, having met her only through a photograph. Louise walked beside her, using a crutch. Meloux followed at a slight distance, and Jenny figured Bea Abbiss’s caution had finally sunk in.

  After their meeting in Nishiime House, Jenny had spoken with her father, assured him that their meeting with Raven Duvall would be in a very public place, and that he and Da
niel were free to do their own research with the Coast Guard. She felt a little vulnerable, knowing their backup was no longer a minute away. But the park was very public, and the sun was very bright, and their hopes were high.

  They stopped near a wrought-iron fence. “Do you see her?” Jenny asked.

  Louise shook her head. “But I suppose she’s changed a lot since the last time I saw her on the rez.”

  “Would she recognize you?”

  Louise shrugged. “I had both legs then.” Her eyes scanned the roaming tourists and locals drawn to the garden and the park. “Is that her, maybe?”

  She nodded toward a slender young brunette in white shorts and a turquoise tank top approaching them. The brunette wore sunglasses, and a white visor shaded her face. Although she didn’t look particularly Native, Jenny knew that meant nothing. The young woman eyed them as she came, then walked right past and stopped at the wrought-iron fence. She pulled a thin camera from the pocket of her shorts and began taking photos of the lake.

  They turned back and discovered that Meloux was gone. Jenny scanned the garden, the park, the street they’d just crossed. No Henry anywhere to be seen. He’d simply vanished.

  “Mrs. Arceneaux,” a voice said behind them.

  When they turned, they found a young woman of seventeen with a face that looked much older. She sported a long blond wig, no makeup, dime-store sunglasses. She wore cutoff jean shorts, a purple Vikings jersey, Nikes.

  “Raven,” Louise said. “Thanks for coming.”

  Raven Duvall wasted no time. “I know what you want. I can’t help you.”

  “Why are you here, then?” Jenny asked.

  She felt the eyes behind those dark lenses assessing her.

  “To tell you to stop looking for Mariah,” Raven said. “You’ll only get yourselves hurt.”

  “Windigo?” Jenny said. “Is that who’ll hurt us?”

  “Just leave.”

  “We saw Windigo last night.”

  “No, you didn’t. If you saw him, you wouldn’t be here to talk about it.”

  Louise reached out to grab her hand, but Raven took a step away, out of reach.

  “What about Mariah?” Louise pleaded. “Is my girl all right?”

  “I don’t know.” Her words were harsh. She looked around, her head swiveling as Jenny had seen certain birds do when the shadow of a hawk circled above their nests. She removed her sunglasses, and Jenny saw her eyes, a softer brown than she’d imagined. “Honest, I don’t know, Mrs. Arceneaux. But if you keep poking around, even if she is okay now, she won’t be for long.”

  “Where can I find her?” Louise asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is she here? In Duluth?”

  “Go away. Please.”

  Jenny jumped in. “We want to help, Raven.”

  “You can’t. No one can. Just go away.”

  From behind them, a familiar voice spoke gently. “Boozhoo, granddaughter. Anish na?”

  And there was Meloux, who as nearly as Jenny could tell, had materialized from thin air. Raven’s eyes shot everywhere, taking in the park, everything, everyone around her. Jenny remembered how afraid she’d been alone in the dark the night before. This girl was with people and in broad daylight, and still she was scared to death.

  “Who’s he?” she said to Louise, accusing.

  “I am no one, granddaughter. I am nothing to fear.”

  “I said alone. You were supposed to come alone.” She looked as if she was about to bolt.

  “Before you run away,” the old Mide said in a voice that held not a whisper of threat and yet was utterly compelling, “tell this desperate mother one thing. Just one thing. Is her daughter alive?”

  Jenny could see the struggle in Raven Duvall, her head undoubtedly pulling her one way, her heart the other. Her eyes never left the ancient, wrinkled landscape of Meloux’s face. Then she broke. “Yes,” she said, barely above a whisper. “At least I think so.”

  “Can you get a message to her?” Louise leaped in.

  The spell Meloux had cast was broken. Raven shoved her sunglasses back on her face, hiding her eyes. “No.”

  “Can you tell us where she is?”

  “I already told you. I don’t know. It’s the truth.”

  “But she’s okay?”

  Now she seemed more annoyed than frightened. “She was. She probably is. But I can’t say anything for sure now. Everything’s changed.”

  “What’s changed? Why?”

  “I have to go. I really, really have to go.”

  “Do you want us to give your mother a message of any kind?” Jenny asked.

  “Mom?” Jenny thought that if she’d been able to see the girl’s eyes, a lost look would have been there. Raven thought for a long moment. “No,” she finally said. The word seemed to hurt her. “Don’t tell her anything.”

  She turned to leave.

  “Granddaughter?”

  Meloux’s voice made her pause, but she didn’t look back.

  “I have fought the windigo before.”

  Now she turned. “You?”

  “I can stand between you and this Windigo, if you will let me.”

  “You?” she said again, her voice full of disbelief, even derision. Then she said, “Right,” as if it were nothing but a joke and a hurtful one at that.

  She spun away abruptly and hurried off among the strolling, clueless tourists. Jenny watched her go, feeling as if she was letting something important slip through her fingers, as if there was so much more she should have been able to pull from the girl.

  Tears streamed down Louise’s cheeks. She smiled at Meloux and Jenny, her face full of sunlight.

  “She’s alive,” she said. “My girl’s alive.”

  Chapter 28

  * * *

  Jenny tried her father’s cell phone and got no response. She left a voice message telling him they’d met with Raven Duvall and were heading back to the hotel.

  Cork and Daniel were there already, waiting in the lobby. It was approaching checkout time, and as Jenny and the others walked in, several people were leaving, luggage in tow. Jenny’s father gathered the group at a table in the breakfast area, which was deserted now.

  “Got your message,” he said to Jenny. “So, you talked with Raven? What did you get?”

  “She thinks Mariah is alive.”

  “Thinks?” Daniel said. “She doesn’t know?”

  “That’s what she said. She was also clearly scared.”

  “For herself or for Mariah?” Cork asked.

  “Both, it sounded like. And for us.”

  “Because of Windigo?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What else did she say?” Cork sounded as if he was certain there had to be more.

  “She said it wasn’t Windigo who attacked us last night.”

  “Who was it?”

  “She didn’t tell us that.”

  He looked disappointed—or that’s how Jenny interpreted what she saw in his face—and she couldn’t help feeling that she’d let him down. Again. Against his wishes, she’d insisted on being involved in this investigation, but so far, she’d contributed little. Knowing that her father would never have allowed it, she and Louise had gone out alone at night and had been attacked and could have been killed. Despite his objections, she’d gone without him to the meeting with Raven Duvall and had returned almost empty-handed. She wanted to do so much, felt such an ­obligation—not just to her father but to the girl they sought—and yet she continued to screw up. She was a total disappointment. That’s how she felt, anyway, and she feared that this was exactly what she saw reflected in her father’s eyes.

  Meloux said, “The girl was like a bird, Corcoran O’Connor. She sang her song, a song of warning, and was gone.”

  Louise as
ked, “Did you guys find out anything?”

  Cork’s disappointment, if that was truly what Jenny had seen in his eyes, vanished. “I have only one thing to say. God bless the Coast Guard.”

  “You got something?”

  “We got something,” Daniel said.

  Between them, they explained their visit. The officer who’d spoken to them was pleasant and helpful. He told them the Coast Guard didn’t keep any record of all the boats that used the harbor, nor did he know of any agency or organization that did. Between the freighters, commercial boats, and pleasure boats that sailed in and out every day, there was just no way. But as for a boat christened Montcalm, there was a possibility. He explained that the owner of every vessel of at least five tons empty weight that plied the Great Lakes had to file papers of documentation with the Coast Guard. The information included the name of the vessel, home port, and ownership. Cork and Daniel had asked how they could get that information, and the Coast Guard officer had, quite agreeably, gone onto his computer, to a public website the USCG maintained that carried exactly what they needed. He’d found listings for three boats that included the word Montcalm in their names. One was a freighter whose home port was Toronto. It was called the Louis-Joseph de Montcalm, which, the Coast Guard officer explained, was the name of the great French general who died defending Quebec. The second was a towboat that operated in Lake Erie out of Cleveland and bore the name Montcalm’s Revenge. The third was a sailboat named simply Montcalm, whose home port was Chicago. It was owned by a man named John Boone Turner.

  “The towboat’s out, I’d guess,” Jenny said. “The freighter?”

  Her father shook his head. “Based on what McGinty told me about port security, I’d say no. And when you looked at the shipping reports in the News Tribune you didn’t find any indication that it had been in port here recently.”

  “Our guess is the sailboat out of Chicago,” Daniel said.

  “What would it be doing here?” Louise asked.

  “I don’t know,” Cork told her. “But it’s the best lead we have so far.”

  “And what do you do with it?” she asked. Although they were hearing promising news, Jenny could tell that Louise was already exhausted from the morning’s expedition. She looked ready to drop.